melt away
by sugar free vanilla
Summary: "Castle, wait. You could - you could stay if you want? The bed's massive, and you're tired too." - pre-couple sharing a bed trope, set after 4x11. For Bogi.


**ok so i wrote my first smut for bogi's (sanumarox123) birthday last week and after like an hour of bothering her with my indecisiveness about posting this i am**

**and now i'm leaving the fanbase to start a life of solitude in outer mongolia where nobody will ever read this oneshot**

**set after ryan and jenny's wedding because favourite ever**

**agh bye**

* * *

><p>"Caaasssssle," she slurs, his name tripping clumsily from her lips. Her voice is thick, heavy, contrasting with the fizzing weightlessness of blood in her veins, sparkling and delicious, golden rivulets of champagne bubbling through the vessels. "I think… I think I'm drunk."<p>

"Ya think?" He laughs, but he's less than sober himself. He's leaving a zigzagged trail of confetti behind him. She giggles, high and clear at the memory of all the kids- nieces and nephews and godchildren alike- at the wedding, swarming him with bags of the stuff, showering him in tiny paper hearts as they teamed up to wrestle him to the ground. Her hazy mind grasps at the inkling that he must have been like that when Alexis' was small, playing along with her and her friends. Anything to make her happy. Drunk, she doesn't dismiss the yearning that flares in her stomach; he'd be such a good dad. She'd told him third time's the charm earlier.

She thinks they could be… charming.

"You wanna come in for some coffee?" She asks, stumbling to a halt outside room forty seven, fumbles for her keycard in her purse. They're at the hotel where the reception was held, and she's got a room booked. He's meant to be going home, the car service due to pick him up in a little while but she's not ready for the night to end, not yet. Not when she's had just a taste of the forbidden fruit, been allowed to touch him, dance with him, laugh unashamedly at all of his terrible jokes. It's not uncommon for her to regret her decisions when it comes to Richard Castle but her suggestion they be each other's plus ones was anything but a mistake.

Now she dreads the morning, shrinks from the idea of having to reinforce their careful distance, maintain the divide that's sucking the life from her more and more each day.

So when he accepts her invitation, hope sparks in her blood anew, halting the slow sinking of her heart in mournful anticipation of the night's ending. The metaphorical clock hasn't struck twelve yet (the literal one did, several hours ago) and she still feels like… not even a princess. She feels like a queen on his arm, capable of anything and everything. And looking damn good all the while. It's only right that she make the most of it.

The coffee is a good idea though, she processes a little slowly, brain faltering at even simple thoughts as it pushes through the dense fog of intoxication. Not just because it's precious extra time, tonight's extended play, but if she doesn't sober up now then tomorrow's gonna be hell. Of course, Castle's gotta get home - it's only going to make it easier for him if he's alert.

* * *

><p>One coffee turns into a second. Castle takes a third, but she switches to water now in an attempt to rehydrate. Time is slipping past them with the tangibility of moonlight, impossible to hold onto, but she loves this. The easy conversation, the way she slots perfectly against him where they perch in the little loveseat facing the window, a view of New York City rooftops casting an amber glow into the hotel room. She's a little too dried out to be condoning this really, her head clear enough to be telling her that near-cuddling Richard Castle is not what she should be doing, that it goes against all the rules.<p>

If only she could bring herself to care.

His phone rings and she forces herself to peel away from him slightly, every inch of her protesting the loss of contact as he answers the call. Agitation crawls over his features and her hand goes to rest on his bicep of its own accord in an attempt to comfort.

"Yeah, no. That's fine - I understand, Carter. Don't worry about it. Of course - seriously! Your daughter is _way _more important. Go - go. Stop apologising, _please_. You've nothing to be sorry for. Bye, Carter."

He runs a hand through already-rumpled hair with a sigh. "I better get going. I've got to hunt down a cab. My driver's daughter's just gone into labour three weeks premature, and the company haven't got anyone else free for two hours. If I don't leave now, I won't be home till - _jeez, _it's already four? - I won't be home until seven." She yawns automatically at the mention of the time, triggering a sudden, drugging tiredness that has her longing for bed. "And you clearly need to get some sleep. Night, Kate - tonight's been… amazing." The grin he shares with her is priceless, a treasure meant only for her. "Sleep well."

"Castle, wait. You could - you could stay if you want? The bed's massive, and you're tired too."

"You - wait, really?" He's wide-eyed at her offer. She's sure she is too, nods anyway. "That would be - if you don't mind, that would be great."

* * *

><p>That was a bad idea. That invitation. Such. A. Bad. Idea.<p>

Because he is in his _boxers. _And nothing else. How is she supposed to sleep knowing that she could stretch out a hand and have her fingertips brush over the hard muscle at his back, and -

- she should probably stop staring.

The golden expanse of skin in front of her is so tempting though, eyes greedily savouring the sight; God knows when she'll get to see it again. She's tired though, so tired and she knows she won't sleep like this, not a chance. Flipping over, she shuts her eyes and tries to forget that Castle is lying half-naked not three feet from her.

(She shoots a quick prayer to whoever's up there, thanking them for giving her the sense to pack proper pajamas in the little overnight bag she ditched up here before the reception, rather than just a baggy tee).

* * *

><p>Light swims behind her closed eyelids and she growls in displeasure, burrows into the her pillow. She's deliciously warm, imagines she can feel the heavy weight of a masculine embrace draped across her. <em>Mmm, <em>Castle. This is a nice dream. One that she's had before, one that often turns sour before too long, twists with the darkness that holds her back from him. But there's no reason not to enjoy her little fantasies at least - and right now, all those shadows just melt away.

She brushes her lips against her - oh, not a pillow. His chest. Kisses her way up the skin to the hollow of his throat and the scent of him is almost overwhelming there - frighteningly real, and it's only then that her eyes snap open. He's staring at her, unmoving, disbelief and something close to fear spilling from his features. "Kate, hi - I, uh. We must have moved closer in the night, I didn't want to wake you." He's so careful not to offend, even as her hands stay pressed flat against his bare pectorals, mouth still pressed to his skin.

"I thought I was - asleep." She murmurs. "I guess maybe not."

"You thought you were dreaming?" He exhales, his incredulous addition not more than the breath of a whisper. "You said my name."

Is he really so shocked by that? By the fact that she wants him, that that should echo in her subconscious? She thought he'd understood, on the swings - that he was the relationship she wanted.

Perhaps not.

She's suddenly overcome with the need to show her how much she likes him - more than, but she's not quite come to terms with that yet - and hesitantly pushes up, lifting to hover over his mouth, his lips not a breath's width from hers.

And then she kisses him. It's just a brush of mouths, soft and fleeting but her heart hammers in her chest as though they've just gone three rounds of…

She stops that train of thought.

"I said your name," she confirms, has no doubt in the truth of it, even if she hadn't been aware of the word escaping her. "Was hardly gonna be anyone else's."

"Kate - what are you saying?" Muscular arms contract around her, pull her delightfully close as he smudges his thumb over his lips, as if he's attempting to capture the feeling of hers.

"I'm saying… I just want you, Castle."

And then _he's _kissing her, an elated kind of desperation to it, singing with love and passion and it's so intense that she swears she sees stars, cliche be damned. His lips part under hers and she can't help but release the moan that surely he can _feel _against him, the way their mouths are moving against each other fiercely, an ungraceful rhythm that's more perfect than anything she's ever experienced before. Broad hands find her hips, his touch scalding her and setting her blood on fire. Effortlessly, he shifts her up and over him, sitting at the same time so that he's sat against the headboard. Kate's straddled at his lap, pressed so close to him that she can hardly breathe past the crush of their chests, gasping at the friction as the proximity shifts her tee over sensitive breasts, makes her arch into him for more. A white hot supernova burns through her eyelids, blinding her to anything but the glorious sensations of him. The rasp of his stubble against the palm of her hands where she cradles his cheeks, the intoxicating musk that has her head spinning, the contrast between the soft flesh of his lips and the way they press so relentlessly, so devastatingly against hers.

Hs torso is bare and hers is close to it, hardly any material - just the thin cotton of her pajama shirt - between them to impede upon the feeling of being skin to skin.

But too much. Any amount is too much. She breaks away from the kiss, panting, only to tug away the barrier and attempt to recapture his lips, but he has other plans.

Castle's mouth is at her neck, now, all scraping teeth and searching tongue and she melts, throwing her head back to provide him fuller access. He takes advantage of the newly exposed skin, finding her pulse point with ease, has her moaning in seconds. His hands are sliding down her body, skimming her hips to coast down the outside of her thighs, under the waistband of her pajama pants. Curling his fingers to push them between his body and her legs, he slides back up - on the inside now, _so close so close _to where she needs them and then -

And then he stops.

His hands drop away, lips releasing her throat. "Castle." Kate's voice is strangled, the edge of a whine to it. "What the _hell?" _

"I just - are you sure? About this - about us? Because I can't if this is a one off, I _can't."_

"You love me," it's a confession and a fact, and realisation blooms on his face, the truth of her lie dimming his irises in a way that has her heart clenching. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry - but… God, Rick, I love you back. I just wasn't ready then, and I made a mistake and I lied and I didn't know how to reverse all that and-"

He flips them, his weight pressing her down, the mattress sinking slightly as he looks down at her, wild-eyed, predatory - happy?

"You love me." His lips trace her clavicle, the hint of teeth scraping against the bone and setting her nerve endings alight, slick tongue delving into the hollows and doing nothing to douse the flame..

"I love you," she promises, trying to keep her voice steady and sincere but his ministrations have her gasping for air and the words come out on a breathless groan.

Hot fingers study the curvature of her body, skate over her ribs, worship each one like it's precious, glide further down, skim tantalising circles over her pelvis. She wriggles helplessly, desperate for his hands to move just a few inches but his weight pins her. He grins at her, lifting his lips from her skin to press a quick, chaste kiss to her lips before shimmying lower, brushing lips, tongue and teeth over every inch of her skin, lavishing attention on her chest that has warmth spreading in fierce rivers to her core and his name pouring from her lips.

"Castle, please," she begs. "Please, Castle. I need you - in me. Make love to me."

His boxers are tented when she reaches for them, finds him hot and hard and throbbing through the silk, jumping under her light touch and she's astounded that she has him so ready when all she's done is kiss him. She shoves his underwear down his legs, feels rather than sees him kick them off, and his erection springs forward, presses against her navel. Her hips surge from the mattress as he trails one rough finger through her folds because she's so wet for him, so prepared, and she wants him, all of him, to be joined to him in the most fundamental, natural way two people can be.

As far gone as she is, he pushes into her with a groan and she _mewls_. It's not a sound she's familiar with but she's never felt this good before, can feel every ridge of him and _oh_-

"Shit, Kate," he grits out, like he's read her mind but it's taking all his control not to move inside her. "Condom?"

"Too late," she gasps as he shifts fractionally, the movement pushing him deeper into her still. "I'm on birth control, just - just _move."_

He does, a slow slide out of her, and a quicker thrust in, hitting the cluster of nerves that send her soaring, and she's embarrassingly close already. One hand shifts from her waist, circles her clit and that's all it takes for her to shatter around him, waves of pleasure curling her toes and she feels like she's floating, but he doesn't stop, speeds his rhythm until she breaks again, and this time the world goes white around her, nothing, nothing, nothing; nothing except his branding hands, and the way he fills her and his chant of 'I love you I love you I love you' that she can't help but try to reply to, her reciprocation taking the shape of broken moans as he keeps her elevated, lifting her higher and higher-

This time, when her climax comes, it's more intense than she's ever experienced, the exhilaration almost too much, like she's in free fall, pushed over the edge of a cliff. She pulls him down with her, swallows his gasps of her name as she moves her lips sloppily against his, too far gone for finesse but needing him close as he comes inside of her.

He tries to roll off of her, but she holds him to her, doesn't let him move an inch. Together they lie, foreheads kissing, cheeks brushing intermittently as they breathe the same air, so close that their eyelashes tangle.

* * *

><p>"Where do we go from here?" He asks, a while later, after he's shifted to lie beside her, one arm wrapped around her shoulder as she curls into him, fingers dancing against the planes of his chest.<p>

"To your loft, so you can change. And then I'm taking you out to lunch."

"Like a date?"

"Not like. Actually. Actually a date."

"Wrong order."

"Huh?"

"Dating. After we've already done the do." He whispers the last part like it's a secret, and she pinches him lightly for his ridiculousness.

"Done the _do?_ Really, Castle?"

* * *

><p><strong>bogi said something to me which is why i ultimately made the decision to post this, i think; she told me the point to writing is exploring new things, and this is new to me (and now old to me because neVER again but still). <strong>

**so there it is**

**tumblr: castleholic**

**twitter: _sfv**


End file.
